Rising of the Wanderer
by J. Phillips
Summary: A short glimpse into the training of the young wanderer and the consequences of his actions shortly before Shadow of the Colossus begins. Work in progress. Chapter 2 needs a few modifications for clarity, and Chapter 3 is unfinished.
1. A White Dress

A white dress. The image pervaded his every thought, countered his every action. Slender arms protruding from that dress, enhanced only by the beautiful face that never seemed to look in his direction.

And for these thoughts, pain. Loss of concentration coupled with excitement magnified his desire, but his thoughts were shattered by a wooden sword crashing into his shoulder. He yelped in pain and stumbled to his knees, dropping his own wooden weapon to clutch his wounded shoulder.

"Focus!" cried his master. "What so occupies your thoughts?"

He shook his head and retrieved his weapon. Slowly he stood up; his master eyed him warily, ready to attack, or ready to counter if necessary. Adso raised his own weapon and steeled himself.

His master circled around him, then in a quick leap covered the distance between them and swiped with his sword. Adso's met it before it could connect again, and he found the strength to force it down against the ground. His master laughed.

Adso didn't quite understand the laugh until his master's foot jammed into his stomach. The air left his lungs and he was forced onto his back. His grip was still intact—the sword remained in his hand. He raised it to deflect one attack and scurried backward on the ground, trying to gain distance and oxygen.

His master slowly walked forward, grinning, as if this were a game instead of a training session. It angered Adso, and he felt his grip tighten around the sword. He clenched his teeth and scrambled to his feet, deflecting another blow he knew would come.

"You have learned so much already!" his master said, a hint of pride in his voice. That did not soften Adso's resolve; instead, he suddenly felt a twinge of hatred for his master. He wanted to _hurt_ him.

And so he swung his blade, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and the exhaustion in his chest. He immediately knew his mistake—in his anger, he swung with such force that his body lost its natural balance, and he paid dearly for it.

His master brought the hilt of his sword down in the small of Adso's back. Adso yelped in pain and the grassy ground rushed up to meet him. He coughed and spat out blood, spraying red into the grass.

"If this were a battle, more than just your blood would be spilled upon the ground," his master snorted disapprovingly. "There is one key factor to war that you still haven't learned!"

Adso's brow furrowed and he became enraged. Standing up again, he wiped the blood from his lips and met the gaze of his master, who was almost to the point of overflowing with laughter. But behind him… _she _stood behind him, watching. Adso's jaw dropped for a moment as his gaze flickered over to her for an instant, catching the white dress as it flowed softly in the breeze. And as his eyes met hers, she turned and began walking toward the temple, holding her hand to her face as though she had been weeping.

His master caught the sudden loss of concentration and took the opportunity. Again his sword whistled horizontally through the air, intent on inflicting pain upon its student.

Adso tilted his head to the side and felt the blade whiz through his hair. He had certainly lost his concentration for a split second, but had realized his mistake in time to correct it. His master was an expert swordsman, yes, but too often did he cut horizontally from the same side, and so Adso had expected this particular attack. As his master's sword started to come back around, Adso pushed his arm to further disrupt his balance. His master stumbled forward, away from Adso, and the student kicked his master in the back, sending him tumbling onto the ground.

And Adso ran. He brought his fingers up to his lips, let out a loud whistle, then shouted, "Agro!" Not once did he turn to see if his master was giving pursuit. He simply kept running.

Agro, a massive black horse with a single white diamond between his eyes, broke away from the stable and galloped toward Adso. Upon reaching him, it slowed just enough to keep pace with its master, and Adso gripped the reins and hoisted himself up onto the huge beast.

Adso turned the horse in the direction of his master, who was now standing and brushing off his tunic. He was laughing.

"That key factor," Adso said, smiling, "is the knowledge of when to retreat."

The master raised a hand up and stroked Agro's snout just as the horse slowed to a stop. "You, Adso, are an expert bowman, an expert rider, your sword skills are improving… and while lacking in strategy, you are most certainly learning quickly. Not to mention you are very adept at surviving in the wild, as has been proven."

The master was referring to a time when, in the course of his training, Adso had been blindfolded and led to a remote area of the wilderness, where he was then isolated from anybody else and expected to survive on his own and return to the city. He managed it in under five days. Out of ten students undergoing the test, the other seven that had survived found their way back in no less than eleven days. For this feat, he had been given the nickname "Wanderer".

"But I fear that in your mind lurks the power of your undoing…" said his master, his voice trailing off as he turned slowly toward the field. Adso noted that _she _was still visible as she made her way back to the temple.

"It's tonight, isn't it, Master Gorman," Adso said, more of a statement than a question.

Master Gorman blinked, confused by the half-question. "What is?"

"The ritual. The cleansing."

"Yes, it is, Adso, and you must attend if you wish to join the Sun's Templar."

Adso sighed. If only there were another way, if only the ritual could be performed without—

"Is something wrong, Adso?" Master Gorman asked. Agro neighed softly and pawed at the dirt, tired of standing. The master stroked his soft nose again to settle him as Adso slowly dismounted the monstrous horse. He let loose of the reins and gave Agro a quick slap on the rump, sending Agro off into the field to continue grazing lazily.

"No, nothing's wrong," Adso replied, his gaze still intent on the woman in white. "Merely thinking of what I need to do in order to prepare for tonight."

"Good," smiled Master Gorman. "Tonight you will become a knight. Tonight, you will begin your true service under Lord Emon."


	2. A Glimmer of Doubt

Adso knelt in prayer, atoning for his sins and asking the gods, a god, _any_ god for guidance. Lord Emon had always said The God was watching, protecting, and prevailing. The God was there, was benevolent, was pure. Adso fully believed in this god, but was not sure about its intentions. And so he needed to atone for his doubt. He spent several hours a day in prayer, asking The God for forgiveness, to understand and answer his questions.

His small room was lit by only one candle, but daylight filtered through the solitary window, causing the candle to cast eerie malformed shadows of Adso against the far wall. His arms rested upon his tiny bed, his eyes remained closed and his head bowed in reverence to The One Who Gave.

Silently Adso finished the prayer and opened his eyes. A small basin sat on an end table near the bed, filled to the brim with water. Adso dipped both hands into the water and gently sprinkled it onto his forehead. _The cleansing_.

He felt his doubts vanish as if purified by the water. He let out a deep sigh, then closed his eyes once more, thanking The God for remaining ever vigilant, and for vanquishing the Dark Ones within himself.

For, as Lord Emon himself had proclaimed, the Dark Ones resided in every person, every living thing. Only humans had the choice to ask for repentance—animals were doomed to suffer the fate of nonbelievers, followers of the Dark Ones. And so it had been since Adso had been a child. So it would be when he passed and melded with The God.

Adso slowly stood up and glanced out the window. Three or four hours had passed since his training session with Master Gorman—it was now roughly midday. Seven or eight hours later and the cleansing would begin. His new life.

Adso felt a surge of excitement, like none he had ever felt before. Suddenly he felt as though running out in the field with Agro until they both collapsed of exhaustion would be normal, or that taking the nearest pure maiden by the arms and dancing with her until dawn the next day acceptable.

Taking a deep breath, he slipped his tunic over his bare, broad chest and shoved his feet into his boots. Prayer had sapped his energy, and so once he was clothed, he headed to the military barracks to find a meal.

It was a short walk to the barracks. It was a lone building made of wood that stood atop a small hill overlooking the valley in which the city rested. The barracks was large enough to house over 200 male soldiers and 50 female servants who provided meals and daily cleaned the premises. They were not slaves; however, they were paid a fair wage. Some said _too _fair.

After being inspected by the guards at the gate, Adso passed through the training grounds and into the eatery, one of the few structures that was part of the barracks. He was given a small tray filled with a sort of gray slop, and he hurried to one of the tables where a large, rugged man with beefy arms and a sinewy neck sat, slowly raising a spoon filled with the slop to his mouth and chewing rigorously.

As Adso approached the table, the man looked up and smiled. "Wander, my boy!"

"How are things in the barracks, Garet?" Adso asked as he sat across from the large man, whose face was now beaming with delight.

Garet grunted and prodded the slop in front of him. "Typical. Train half the day, eat, train some more, bathe, sleep."

"Sounds exciting," said Adso, digging into the oozing substance on his tray. It tasted a little like oatmeal mixed with dry wheat. If he hadn't been so used to the taste, he probably would have spat it back out. Years of eating it had steeled his taste buds, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. Garet, however, seemed to savor every sloppy bite.

"Of course it is," Garet said between bites. "What more could a man want?"

Adso smiled. Garet was ten years the older, but he still somehow felt an intense connection with the burly man. Originally they had trained together in the barracks, but Adso had been selected to train under the temple guards. He had shown such proficient skill on horseback and with archery that even Lord Emon had approved. Garet was never jealous, although Adso knew he had to be. Nevertheless, Garet was much more skilled with a sword, and could inflict much more damage. Adso wouldn't doubt it if one vertical slash would be enough to sever monstrous Agro in two.

"Perhaps a beautiful wife and plenty of strong young children," Adso remarked with a grin. Garet dropped his spoon and burst into laughter, pounding the table once with his fist.

"Always the funny one, Wander," Garet said, smiling and shaking his head. "Could you imagine me trying to contain so many heathens? I fear the idea of taking care a family more than I fear fighting a giant."

Adso chuckled. "Just a suggestion, my friend. I doubt such a task would be as colossal a challenge as you make it out to be."

Garet finished up the slop and set his spoon down. "Never mind that. Are you busy now?"

"I have only my preparations for the cleansing tonight."

"Ah, the cleansing. It will be glorious."

"Will you attend?" Adso asked, hopeful.

"By the gods, yes! How could I ever miss the knighting of The Wanderer?"

Adso set down his own spoon. He had not finished his meal, but he was satisfied and he had regained his strength. "Glad to hear it."

"Tell me," Garet said, leaning in, "would some swordplay be beneficial to your… _preparations_?"

"Only if you do not fear gaining a new scar."

Garet laughed. "Do you favor having a head?"

Adso joined in the laughter. "I have a better idea than simple swordplay. However, with as high of stakes, we shall use the practice blades."

Garet scoffed. "I can control my blade hand better than any man in this barracks. What could be so dangerous to warrant the use of wooden swords?"

Adso said nothing, just smirked. Garet raised an eyebrow. "What in the gods' names do you have in mind, boy?"

Adso's grin stretched across his already overtly playful expression.

"Are you ready?" Adso called from the southern end of the field. Garet shifted his weight uncomfortably. Riding horseback was not his forte, as he was usually too big for the horse and never had exceptional balance. The brown horse he had pulled from the stable was large enough to rival Agro, Adso's steed, but still seemed a little wobbly under the large man's bulk.

"Ready enough!" Garet shouted in reply. He gripped his sword and dug his heels into the horse's ribs. Although it had trembled beneath his weight earlier, the horse seemed to tap into an invisible energy source as it sprung forward, rushing over the grass.

Adso gave Agro a sharp kick and shouted, "Hyah!" Agro darted forward, straight toward Garet and the great beast beneath him.

Just before the horses met, Adso tensed and raised his sword. Garet pointed his directly at Adso and gave a war cry.

CLANK! The wooden swords smashed into each other and bounced apart. Adso nearly lost his, but managed to maintain his grip as he turned Agro around for another pass. He thought he could hear Garet laughing.

"Can you handle this, boy?" Garet shouted from the other side of the field.

Adso smiled and responded, "I have a few surprises waiting for you, my friend!"

"We shall see about that, Wander!" cried Garet, kicking his horse in the flanks and starting back toward him.

Adso judged the distance. A hundred and fifty meters. Plenty of space. He kicked Agro again and the massive horse launched forward.

The powerful legs beat the ground, the tense, sinewy muscles snaked underneath him, and the wind rustled his hair. Adso connected with Agro, felt the horse's every move, understood each and every muscle in his body as he triumphed in speed and agility. Adso found the perfect balance and took a deep breath.

Slowly he raised one leg up and set his foot on the saddle. Then, as soon as his balance returned, he brought the other leg up. In a few seconds he would meet Garet again—he had to act fast.

His left foot slipped as he began to stand up, and he lost his balance. Adrenaline surged through him, and suddenly he had a horrible, sickening feeling that he would tumble off Agro. But somehow his foot came back onto the saddle, and, with the help of the reins, managed to regain his balance. He raised his sword just as Agro passed Garet's sturdy horse.

Garet swiped at Adso's knees, but didn't finish the blow. Adso's own wooden blade came down and thumped the back of Garet's head. Garet slumped over, his horse slowed, and he toppled over.

Adso dropped back to his saddle, his heart pumping wildly. He had seen Garet fall from his horse, and so he turned Agro around and kicked him viciously in the sides. Agro sensed his master's haste and surged forward.

Reaching his fallen friend, Adso pulled back on the reins and jumped off Agro before he had even come to a stop.

"Garet!" he called, rushing to his friend.

Adso's heart stopped. Garet was lying in the grass, laughing.

"Are you all right? I'm so sorry, my friend, I—"

"Damn you!" Garet shouted, rubbing the back of his head. "The least you could have done was leave me a scar, not some rubbish lump."

Adso kneeled next to his friend and laughed. "I really didn't mean to do that."

"Ah, it's all right," said Garet, getting to his feet. "You really are a remarkable rider. I wouldn't be surprised if you became the greatest knight this kingdom has ever seen."

"Thank you, Garet, but I sincerely doubt it."

"Eh, depends on if you can keep your head straight." Garet's attention suddenly darted to the left. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Adso asked, turning to match Garet's gaze.

"I thought I saw something," Garet replied, stepping out of the confines of the practice field and into the long grass that signaled where the city ended and wilderness began.

"Whatever it is," Adso said, following closely behind Garet, "it smells pretty bad."

Adso fell back, unable to wrench through the long grass as well as Garet. They were now about 50 meters from the practice field. Adso could see the two horses grazing together, as if they had not just been engaged in so much as a practice battle.

Garet knelt down and disappeared from view. "Did you find something?" Adso called to him.

"Adso, come quickly!"

Adso shoved his way through the grass, running as fast as he possibly could through the growth. Garet was kneeling over something covered with a mixture of foamy white and syrupy red substances, but he couldn't quite tell what.

"What is it?" he asked, just as the smell Garet had mentioned earlier intensified. The stench was so putrid that he gagged and turned away. Flies were buzzing all around what Adso now recognized as a human corpse.

It had been ripped to shreds.

"What happened to him?" Adso asked, covering his nose with his mouth. Garet reached for where the head should have been.

"Don't touch it!" Adso snapped. Garet ignored him and grabbed a leathery item, gagging as he brought it away from the body. Strings of blood and guts followed it, so he whipped it up and down to clear the viscous liquids.

Garet stumbled away from the body. Adso took one final look at the mangled corpse, shuddered, and followed his friend.

Garet forced his way out of the long grass and back onto the practice field. He wiped the blood from the item, and underneath the grime came the appearance of a leather-bound book.

"What are you hoping to find?" Adso asked, sitting down next to him.

"This was the only thing on that body," said Garet. "It must have been of importance to him, and may explain the cause for his death."

Garet opened the book and skimmed through a few pages.

"Well?" Adso prodded.

Garet's eyes widened.

"What is it?" Adso grimaced.

"I think… I think it's a journal."

"Kept by whom?"

Garet handed the book over to Adso and whispered, "Lord Emon."


	3. The Journal

_Entry 12_

_I have found the ancient manuscripts, the ones detailing our entrance into this kingdom. The councilors and I have always known that we were not of this land, that we had either been brought here by another unknown force or by mass migration. After twenty long years of searching, our efforts have finally been fruitful._

_I praise the God of Light for showing us the way. Without him our purpose would be denied, our very existence futile. Without him the ancient manuscripts would not have been discovered underneath the Temple of Light, for it was during prayer that I found the secret entrance._

_With my aid, the scholars have already begun to pore through the knowledge of the manuscripts._

_Entry 15_

_After much discussion, the council has decided to name the secret chamber the Sanctum of Light. I must say it is not a fitting name, as the only time light enters the Sanctum is during midday, when the sun looms directly overhead. We have had to bring numerous lamps and torches in order to study the manuscripts, for we fear the wrath of the God may be upon us if we remove any of the sacred texts._

_Entry 20_

_There are murals on the walls! None of the scholars nor I were able to see them for we had not entered the Sanctum during midday. They tell an expansive story, and we have only just begun to understand it._

_The texts are remarkable! They give insight to where our laws originated, who the original founders of our land were. We had believed for so long that our own history was lost forever!_

_I have not yet found any mention of the Dark Ones. Strange, as so many of the texts we did have continuously spoke of them and our peoples' undoing. I would like to know more about the Dark Ones, as our manuscripts merely order all people to avoid them at all costs._

_Entry 27_

_The Dark Ones are mentioned in the Great Mural! It has taken several days to find the full story, but it seems as though our ancestors prevailed over the Dark Ones centuries ago, and some battle was waged in a land far from our own. I believe this is evidence that our ancestors migrated here._

_Tomorrow is the Cleansing and so I must abandon my duties as head scholar in the Sanctum for a day. Pity, as it is so interesting, but I cannot forget my duties given to me by the God of Light._

_Entry 28_

_The Cleansing was not as successful as previous rituals. As soon as the Temptress had been sacrificed, clouds gathered above us and a thunderous storm appeared. Lightning seems to have struck the Temple, as it is charred in one area atop the roof._

_I believe I may have angered the God, but am unsure as to how. Perhaps the choice for the Temptress was not sufficient to please him. I shall strive to perfect my understanding of the God, although it is said no mortal can do so._

_Entry 34_

_Disturbing news. According to the Great Mural, the Dark Ones still exist! The ancient manuscripts even give them a name, but I fear The God's wrath if I utter it in spoken or written form. Thus, I shall continue referring to them as the Dark Ones._

_Although they still exist, apparently there is some powerful force still holding them. I have not studied enough to know by what means the Dark Ones are trapped, but I am sure the answer will come to me soon._

_Entry 39_

_I found a very brief mention of the Dark Ones' prison today. Praise the God of Light, as it is a very powerful prison if I understand correctly. They are trapped hundreds of miles away in a Forbidden Land. Sixteen statues represent the essence of the Dark Ones, which is scattered throughout the Forbidden Land. There is no way to free its essence, and so it is bound eternally by the statues._

_The Dark Ones are trapped in a structure known as the Temple of Worship, where our ancestors paid tribute to the God of Light so long ago. Strangely enough, I have not yet found any mention of the God of Light in the ancient manuscripts. _

_I have no doubt whatsoever that the God will be mentioned._

_Entry 41_

_Master Gorman, whom I have entrusted the guarding of the Sanctum to, was asked to aid in the replacement of one of the shelves inside the Sanctum. It is very old, but very heavy, and to ensure the safety of the books it needed to be removed. By complete accident, Master Gorman pulled one of the books from its shelf and stumbled out of the Sanctum! I thought for sure the God would strike him down where he stood. Master Gorman arose, apparently unscathed, and I realized that the books could be removed without harm! _

_Praise the God of Light! Studying the texts will be much easier now, and more scholars may be devoted to the study of the Great Mural._

_Entry 50_

_Somebody has stolen three of the ancient texts! Master Gorman and his men are searching every inch of the city, devoted to finding the infidels who dare defy the power of the God and his Lords._

_In other news, the entire Great Mural has been copied exactly onto parchment by qualified artists and scholars. We may now study them without the hassle of carrying torches, and the Sanctum of Light may be properly preserved._

_Entry 51_

_Every text found inside the Sanctum of Light has been removed and placed in my personal library. Scholars are still working day and night to uncover the secrets of our forefathers._

_I, however, am devoting my time to the study of the Great Mural. I believe the answers I seek are hidden within its vibrant storytelling._


	4. Author's Note

Author's Note:

To all those reading this story, I'm not sure if it's going to ever be completed for a few reasons. First, I've been extremely busy with school and am working on getting into grad school, so I have had very little time to even _think_ about this story. Second, I am very unsatisfied with how it has turned out so far. I may rewrite it sometime, using the same general plot elements, but I haven't fleshed out Wanderer's character nearly as much as I'd have liked. Regardless, it may reappear, so if this story suddenly disappears, look out for another!

Hope this at least provides some closure—thanks for reading so far. I love _Shadow of the Colossus_ and am intrigued by its back story, so eventually this project will be complete.

--J. Phillips


End file.
